


Worth Your Time

by flintwoodandco



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Smut, Flintwood, Kilts, M/M, PWP, Semi-Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 02:26:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9051550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flintwoodandco/pseuds/flintwoodandco
Summary: Marcus and Oliver decide to have some fun at the annual Christmas Quidditch Gala





	

Marcus sighs as he takes another look at himself in the mirror, pressing his hands down on the pleated fabric. He feels ridiculous in this, but Oliver had asked (well, more like persuaded) and Marcus couldn’t resist what Oliver had suggested. 

“You’re fine,” Oliver smiles, tugging at Marcus’ sleeve. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

Marcus wishes he could have just stay home and not have to face the other Quidditch teams, but Oliver was accepting an award at this Christmas Gala, leaving Marcus stuck. It isn’t that he’s not proud of Oliver, he just doesn’t like making appearances for the sake of whatever the managers had in mind.

At the party, most of the players compliment Marcus on his outfit and he accepts it as graciously as he can. With Oliver beaming at him, it’s hard not to be polite at the very least. Marcus is thankful the awards ceremony comes first, unable to hide his smile when Oliver goes up on the stage and he admires just how good Oliver looks. Of course, it’s not the first time he’s seen Oliver in a kilt, but it’s not too often he gets to see him in one either. 

The dinner passes by and after getting a drink or two in him, Marcus gets fidgety. It’s a bit cold in this outfit, not to mention the lack of conversation between Oliver and him that evening. For some reason, everyone in the room is captivated by Oliver tonight, which Marcus finds he can’t see any fault in that. All he really wants is to just give Oliver a kiss right now and even that seems too much to ask. 

As people begin to filter out, Marcus takes his chance, nabbing Oliver as he makes his way over to the bar. Oliver protests at first, but then lets Marcus lead him out of the ballroom and into one of the smaller rooms that lay alongside it.

“Finally,” Marcus grits out, locking the door behind them and launching himself onto Oliver.

He crashes their lips together, pushing Oliver up against the wall, his hands tight on Oliver’s hips. After getting over the initial shock, Oliver grins at this and wraps his arms around Marcus’ shoulders.

“Didn’t know you were needing me so badly,” Oliver teases, then biting his lip when Marcus starts sucking on his neck. 

“Smart ass,” Marcus mumbles in between sucks and bites down hard enough to leave a mark for the morning. 

Oliver gasps at this and then moves his arms down, his fingers toying with the hem of Marcus’ kilt. They both know what they haven’t done after Oliver had coyly suggested so earlier that evening.

“Oliver,” Marcus warns before Oliver’s hands dive under the fabric, his fingers ghosting along the length of Marcus’ cock.

“Shit.”

Oliver’s hands are colder than Marcus expects, but he distracts his mouth in the crook of Oliver’s neck to try to get past that. Oliver laughs at this, his hands moving to grab Marcus’ ass before pushing their groins together. Both of them can’t help their moans and Oliver moves his own kilt out of the way so their cocks can finally touch. 

“Maybe the Scots had the right idea after all,” Marcus pants as he and Oliver grind against each other, their moans echoing in the empty room. 

“Amongst other ones,” Oliver breathes. He grabs Marcus by his biceps and Marcus suddenly finds himself being slammed against the wall. 

His knees weaken at the downright sinful look on Oliver’s face, but he isn’t given long to admire it as Oliver turns him around. Marcus doesn’t protest and braces his hands up against the wall, his cock twitching in anticipation. He hears Oliver hum appreciatively as he moves the fabric of Marcus’ kilt to massage his ass, but the two of them aren’t moving fast enough for Marcus’ liking.

“Hurry up,” he growls, only to be silenced as fingers shove their way into his mouth. 

“So impatient,” Oliver laughs as his cock brushes up against Marcus’ ass.

Marcus moans around Oliver’s fingers, letting himself salivate as Oliver thrusts them in and out of his mouth. When Oliver’s fingers are coated enough, Oliver traces a finger along Marcus’ hole and Marcus nearly whimpers in protest. He hates how Oliver can reduce him to this state, but finds himself so turned on, he doesn’t try to fight dirty this time.

Finally, Oliver inserts a finger, making Marcus almost careen at the feeling. It’s a sharp but pleasurable pain, and he curses as he gets used to the sensation. It’s not long before two more of Oliver’s fingers follow, Marcus now gasping at being stretched so much. The thrusting begins, slow and methodical and Marcus knowing Oliver is searching for his prostate as the fingers curl inside of him every so often. 

“Fucking find it already.” 

Oliver is usually faster than this and Marcus curses how Oliver is just torturing him at this point. Taking the hint, Oliver presses his fingers even more into Marcus, hitting the prostate head on. Marcus shudders, his moan coming out as a choked gasp and his forehead hits the wall with a thud.

“Ready?” Oliver asks and Marcus rolls his eyes as if Oliver even needed to ask. 

He groans at the lack of Oliver’s fingers in him and waits impatiently as Oliver gets his own cock slick. When Marcus feels the head at his hole, he pushes back on it, but Oliver slams him back against the wall. 

“You’ll move when I tell you to.”

Marcus recognizes this game. It’s one of his favorites and he ducks his head, trying to ignore how much his cock is caught between him and the wall. “Yes, sir.”

Oliver’s breath is hot against his neck and Marcus hears him murmur a, “Good boy,” grabbing Marcus’ hands and pinning them together with one hand. Marcus reflexively clenches his fists, tipping his head back just enough to catch a glimpse of the ceiling.

The slide into him is smooth, despite how Oliver inches in, but Marcus moans anyways hoping Oliver will show him some sympathy. He can’t help glancing down on his cock, red and leaking with pre-cum, and grimaces a little when he notices that’s getting on his kilt. Once Oliver is fully seated, the two stay still as Marcus adjusts. Marcus wiggles his hips when he feels ready and grits his teeth when he feels Oliver’s nails dig into his hip.

“Fuck yourself on my cock,” Oliver whispers into his ear and Marcus almost cums right on the spot. 

He does his best to calm his frenzied mind and grins before moving his hips as best he can with Oliver still holding him up against the wall. The movements are unsteady at first, but Marcus soon finds his rhythm and shoves himself down just the way Oliver likes it. 

“Marcus,” Oliver groans, keeping the one hand on Marcus’ pinned ones and moving the other from Marcus’ waist to pump his cock. 

It isn’t long before Oliver slams himself into Marcus, upsetting the pace that Marcus had finally gotten used to, and Marcus almost yelps at this wave of pleasure. Seeing that Oliver has taken the upper hand again, Marcus uses his strength to hold himself in place as Oliver pounds him.

The feelings of Oliver hitting his prostate along with the hand working his cock consumes Marcus and it’s not long before he cries out, his orgasm hitting him harder than any bludger could. Oliver succumbs to his own shortly after with a low groan and he drops his hands, opting to rest his forehead on Marcus’ shoulder. 

Their breathing fills the room and Marcus inhales sharply when Oliver pulls out of him. 

“This is the only reason you wanted me to wear a kilt, isn’t it?” Marcus grimaces as he looks down at the state of himself. 

“Well, you actually do look great in it too.” 

Oliver places a small kiss on Marcus’ lips before bringing out his wand to clean the both of them up. They’re quite the sight with their wrinkled clothing and reddened faces, and they laugh at the absurdness of what they just did. Of course, the thrill of it all made it that more worth it in Marcus’ mind and he pulls Oliver in.

After another make-out session, the two try their best to go back into the ballroom as if they had just stepped out for some air, but it doesn’t help that Oliver squeezes his ass just before they enter. Oliver is quickly swarmed by his team, leaving Marcus to find his spot back at the table alone, only a little grumpy at Oliver’s action and now his absence yet again. However, Marcus finds he doesn’t mind it as much this time around because he knows he and Oliver will be able to give each other plenty of attention when they get home that night.

**Author's Note:**

> For hexmionegranger!! Thank you for helping me get past my initial fear of writing smut haha
> 
> [Tchumblr Wumblr](http://flintwoodandco.tumblr.com)


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